


So Runs the World Away

by SierraNovembr



Series: New Worlds for the Weary [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Iron Man 2, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 08:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12955458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SierraNovembr/pseuds/SierraNovembr
Summary: Clint's only here to serve as Nat's backup and maybe get a glimpse of Tony Stark in the flesh, so of course he manages to knock the man flat on his ass.





	So Runs the World Away

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from a Josh Ritter album.

_Squeak. Squeeeeak. Click. Squeak._

Clint winces his way down the hall, trying to pretend that the wheeled mop bucket he is pushing ahead of him isn’t drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity. It’s one thing when he’s playing the distraction, but this mission is strictly observation and back up for Natasha. Which he can do, has done dozens of times, but this damned bucket is gonna succeed where actual interrogators had failed and break him if he has to listen to this wheel screech for much longer.

He’d grumbled at Coulson about the assignment, of course. Everyone knew about Tony Stark’s bisexuality, and Clint was sure he was the man’s type. Granted, up until his trip to Afghanistan, Stark’s type was ‘enthusiastic and legal,’ but still. Clint is a delight. But noooooo, Fury insisted on spunky-but-soft, so Natasha gets to be Natalie from legal and Clint is stuck with a bucket.

_Squeak. Squeeeeak. Click. Squeak._

Clint probably sunk his chances when he refused to watch Stark’s leaked sex tape, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It had been bad enough sitting in that briefing room surrounded by pictures of the man, no way was he gonna stay workplace appropriate if he had to see that ass when it wasn’t snugged into gorgeously tailored pants. He had hastily excused himself and by the time he made his way back from splashing water on his face, they had moved on to Stark’s return from Afghanistan.

That was somehow worse. The man’s bloodied, bruised face made something protective sit up and growl in Clint’s chest. He shoved it back down, but Coulson noticed his expression before he could wipe it clean. Come to think of it, that was probably more the reason he got the bucket. Clint hasn’t even met Stark and already he wants to shoot people on his behalf, that’s not great for an infiltration detail.

Good trait for a protection detail, though. As if the man who became Iron Man would allow one. Clint sighs. A man can dream.

_Squeak. Squeeeeak. Click. Squeak._

“Dear _God_ , make it stop.” Clint slams his eyes shut and stops walking; the wheel stops squeaking; everything comes to a standstill as Tony Stark’s voice carries down the hallway. Clint’s frozen as he feels the other man approach him and move past. He opens his eyes to see Stark on his knees looking under the bucket. His ass is raised, and Clint bites the inside of his cheek, hard, to keep himself from losing focus now. Stark sits back on his heels and tugs a silver tube out of his jacket pocket. He squeezes it over a small, flat cylinder and Clint recognizes the smell of epoxy. After a few seconds, Tony tips forward again and attaches the object to the bottom of the bucket. 

Clint realizes the mop handle is vibrating, subtly, and blue light is leaking out from under the bucket. The bucket which is now levitating slightly. “Wait, what?” he asks. He pushes it, just a little, and the bucket glides a few soundless inches, the wheels just off the ground.

“Just a little repulsor.” Tony shrugs and pushes himself back up to his feet. “Battery’s not big, but it should last to the end of your shift.” He smiles and claps a hand to Clint’s shoulder.

It’s such a small gesture. It shouldn’t ever have been more than a forgettable little interaction for the billionaire. Except Clint is leaning forward to get a better look at his newly high-tech janitorial equipment and Stark’s hand comes down, not on his sleeve, but on the bare skin of his neck above his collar.

It’s like being electrocuted, which Clint is unfortunately familiar with after Budapest. Clint feels his body lock up as a fierce vibrating sensation starts to grow across his skin. It travels into his neck and shoots down his spine, finally finding his heart and _squeezing_. 

Stark, eyes wide and watering, finally manages to wrench his hand off Clint’s neck. Clint stumbles back against the nearest wall, but Stark isn’t so lucky. He falls flat on his ass in the middle of the hall. Clint shakes off the lingering pain, checking to see what Stark might have been holding to accidentally electrocute them. He frowns when he realizes that Stark’s hands are empty. Belatedly, Clint wonders if this was an attack, but quickly dismisses it, since his supposed attacker is still frozen on the ground, staring at Clint in utter shock. 

His eyes are so gorgeous. Clint can’t help but appreciate them, until a completely unexpected feeling of _panic_ crashes into him. Clint’s confused, trying to figure out what could be making him so afraid, until it registers how pale Stark has gone.

Clint isn’t armed. Coulson thought it wasn’t worth sneaking anything past building security. Still, instincts are quicker than memory, and Clint’s hand makes it all the way to where his gun _should_ be before he quickly changes course. He grabs the mop, uses his foot to snap the wooden handle near the base, and he has an improvised quarterstaff. He hauls Stark, still down on the ground, behind him and against the wall, spinning to check up and down the hall.

The hall is silent, the only people still present are Ms. Potts and Natasha. The women are frozen, staring at the two of them from an open doorway several feet away. Natasha is calm, looking past him to watch Stark, but she twitches an eyebrow when he glances her way. He knows it means she'll follow his lead if something goes down, but she isn't breaking character yet. Potts has her phone out, but when Clint looks at her, she raises both hands slowly. “Please, just let Mr. Stark go, we don’t want anyone hurt.”

There’s no threat here. Clint looks back and meets Stark’s eyes again and his feelings go haywire. Confusion, lust, fear, curiosity, doubt, and the sharp sting of regret. It’s the regret that finally makes everything clear. Clint hasn’t ever really had the luxury of regret in his life, and it’s not very familiar to him.

It’s probably damned familiar to a reformed weapons manufacturer.

Stark lets out a rueful laugh, and Clint feels the faint echo of amusement filter through the rest of the feelings still swirling in his chest. _Stark’s_ feelings.

Clint abruptly realizes that Stark’s still on the floor, craning his neck to hold Clint’s gaze. He turns slowly and sinks down to his knees in front of the other man. Something about the fear and regret Stark’s projecting lends caution to his movements, but Clint can’t help bringing a hand up to gently touch Stark’s face. 

This time, there’s no pain, only the warmth of skin beneath his fingers, and Clint feels a smile break over his face.

Stark sighs and brings his own hand up to grab Clint’s. “Hello, soulmate.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a little prologue for a long Clint/Tony/Steve/Bucky fic, which I posted only a day before finding out about upcoming commitments that were going to curtail my writing quite a bit. So, instead of leaving it hanging forever, I am marking it as a complete little drabble about Clint meeting his soulmate. When I can come back to it, I will turn this into part one of a series. Sorry for any confusion!


End file.
